


Love Shack

by owltype



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Clint Barton's Farmhouse of Love, First Time, M/M, Steve Angst, Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: Steve and Tony have to share a room. They share feelings, then they share themselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've beat this fic into shape as best I can. Now, I place it in your hands to judge as you please.
> 
> Please note, I don't often write smut soooo if it reads a little awkwardly, I'm sorry. I tried.

“I’m going to try to be an adult about this,” Tony promises as he enters the little room he’s supposed to share with Steve.

“You’ve never been an adult about anything in your life,” Steve mutters. His back is turned to Tony, so Tony can’t see the expression on his face, but he thinks Steve is making a joke. Hopes he’s making a joke. He’s so tired of fighting with Steve.

“You’ve only known me for three years,” Tony points out, deciding to just roll with it. What does he have to lose? “So your data is insufficient.”

“Only three years? Feel like it’s been a century,” Steve snarks back and yeah, he’s joking. Tony can tell because that’s how Steve sounds when he’s trying not to smile.

Good. Maybe they’ll get through this night without killing each other.

Tony turns toward the bed and deflates. How the hell is he supposed to share that thing with Steve? By himself, it would be tight quarters, but Steve alone is practically the size of the mattress. There’s no way.

“I’m not getting any sleep tonight, am I?” Tony says despairingly. The way he sees it, he has only two options and neither are great. He could squeeze onto the small mattress with Steve and hope he’s not pushed off of it in the middle of the night, or he could sleep on the floor. Either way, he’s going to be one big ball of hurt in the morning.

Steve comes up behind him and considers their predicament. “This is never going to work,” he agrees.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” he says but without any real heat. The stress of the last few days is catching up to him and he’s just so tired. He wants to pass out, would do so right now if he could just get horizontal.

“I think I have a solution,” Steve says, turning to look at Tony.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Tony mumbles.

Steve ignores him. “I think I saw an air mattress on the Quinjet. Let’s blow that up, take the mattress off the bed, and lay them next to each other on the floor. It’ll be awkward, but it’ll be better than our current options.”

“That’s,” _kind of perfect_ , Tony thinks, but he doesn’t want to say it because he’s still kind of pissed at Steve and he’s a petty person. “Sufficient,” he finishes.

“Thanks,” Steve deadpans and turns away. Tony feels kind of bad but…eh. Steve already knows he’s obnoxious, and Tony’s never been one to apologize for who he is.

“I’ll get the air mattress,” Tony offers, figures that is apology enough.

\-----

On his way out to the Quinjet, Tony passes by Natasha. She stops him with a hand on his wrist. He doesn’t really want to have the conversation they’re about to have and considers trying to shake her off. He doesn’t, though, because he doesn’t want to know what will happen if he tries.

“Where are you going?” She asks. Tony isn’t sure if what he sees in her eyes is mere curiosity or panic. God. What did Wanda do to her?

“To the Quinjet,” he answers gently. “I need the air mattress.”

“Steve can’t curl up into a small enough ball to accommodate you both?” Natasha asks, amusement shining in her green eyes.

“The guy is a _behemoth_ , Nat,” Tony complains.

Natasha chuckles then falls silent. They regard each other for a while, both wanting to speak but neither knowing where to begin. It’s all just too much.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks him first, her perceptive gaze sweeping across his features and cataloging all his vulnerabilities. Strange how before that would have freaked him out. Now he just feels maybe it’s her way of showing she cares.

“Always,” he says because it’s his default response and he kind of just wants things to go back to the way they were before.

“Tony,” she admonishes.

He sighs. “Not really, Nat,” he says. “You?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

Tony flashes her a winning smile. “What a functional bunch of superheroes we are,” he says.

That earns him a full-belly laugh, and Tony is floored. They get on well enough, but Natasha usually seems to be annoyed with him. She’s never laughed like this to something he’s said. Something about tonight feels different, like somehow they’ve been slotted together into a better fit. And maybe it’s just stress. Maybe it’s all of the horrible things they’ve been through together. Or maybe they just understand each other better now.

“What am I going to do?” Tony asks her quietly. He’s never been at a loss before. Every problem he’s encountered, he had a quick solution for it, but Ultron is too big and too everywhere. Tony is floundering.

“You mean, what are _we_ going to do?” She corrects him, her tone sharp.

“You guys shouldn’t have to—It’s my fault Ultron is—I should have known better. I should have listened to Bruce. Nat, I should have--”

Natasha puts a gentle finger to his lips, effectively ending his tirade. She leans up and kisses him gently on the cheek, pulls back to look at him and in her eyes, there is no judgment, only compassion. “Enough, Tony. We’re a team, and we’ll figure this out--”

“Together,” Tony finishes for her.

Natasha smiles. “That’s right.”

Tony smiles back, feeling better. He tugs her into a brief hug and whispers against her hair, “And you, Nat? Will you be okay?”

“I think so,” she says as she pulls away. “Bruce helped.”

“I’m happy for you,” Tony says sincerely. “He’s a great guy.”

“Yes,” she says. “Now, stop worrying about me and go be with Steve.”

Tony snorts. “There is no _with_ ,” he mutters, trying to hide his embarrassment. “There is no…us. That’s not a thing.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s _totally_ a thing. Or it would be if you two would get with the program.” She turns to walk away.

Tony calls out after her, “Why aren’t you giving Steve this lecture?”

“I saw you first,” she says.

Before she disappears around the corner, Tony sticks his tongue out at her back. She flips him the bird.

Assassin-spies are hella scary.

\-----

Tony manages to find the air mattress without any issue but the pump has apparently disappeared into thin air. Isn’t that just his luck? The way things have been going lately, he shouldn’t be surprised. He knows that in the grand scheme of things it’s a minor inconvenience, but he’s tired and crabby and if he wants to whine about things, that’s his prerogative.

Upon Tony’s return, Steve looks incredibly unimpressed with his temper tantrum and grabs the air mattress from Tony’s hands to blow it up himself.

Right. Super-soldier.

As soon as their makeshift bed is ready, Tony collapses onto it and burrows down. It’s not the most comfortable bed, but at least it’s soft.

“Could you get me a blanket?” He asks Steve. “And a pillow?” He adds as an afterthought.

A pile of fabric smacks him in the face.

“Oh, Steve, what would I do without you?” Tony asks sweetly. He means it facetiously but after his conversation with Natasha, and in the darkness of the night, it feels a little too close to the truth.

To distract himself from the strange moment, Tony grabs the pillow, stuffs it under his head, and snuggles into the blanket. It smells like spices, fabric softener, and something that’s reminiscent of blue skies and meadow flowers. Maybe it’s something that comes from the air around them, something purely country.

Steve plops down next to him, making Tony bounce a little. Steve rests on his side, cradling his head in his hand, and considers Tony seriously.

“I’m sure, given time, you would have come up with a solution. Being the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist you are.”

“Ha, you’re _so_ funny,” Tony says, reaching out to boop Steve on the nose. Steve glares at him. “If the Captain America gig doesn’t work out for you, you could always try stand-up comedy.”

Tony was expecting Steve to say something witty in return. What he wasn’t expecting was for Steve’s gaze to darken and for the tension to return to his shoulders. “Woah, hey,” Tony says, inching closer to Steve. He rests a hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’m sorry if I crossed some invisible line there.”

Steve shakes him off but doesn’t move away. He’s quiet, too quiet and still, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve look so shaken. He’s only known Steve for a handful of years, but within that time Steve had been forced to adjust to a whole new century, one far different than the one he grew up in. And Steve had handled it like a champ, with a resilience that rivals vibranium. Now, he just looks like a sad, scared little kid, and that makes Tony feel angry.

“What did that bitch do to you?” Tony asks. “I swear, I’ll kill her.”

“Don’t, Tony,” Steve says angrily. “She’s just a kid.”

Tony hums noncommittally. He rolls over to rest on his back, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to remember what it was like to feel Steve’s pulse stutter out beneath his own fingers. Wanda is young, yes, but she had hurt his friends, had put into motion these disastrous events. He’s not sure if he could stop himself from doing the same if he had the chance.

Steve’s voice breaks the silence that had fallen on them. “Do you think I could?” He asks.

“Could…what?” Tony wonders, a little jarred by the sudden change of topic.

“Do you think I could stop being Captain America? Could live a normal life?”

Oh, Steve. Tony’s heart constricts a little more. “Do you _want_ to stop being Captain America?”

Steve takes a while to answer. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I don’t think I’d know how to be anything but.”

“You’re so much more than Captain America,” Tony says vehemently. “You’re Steven Grant Rogers.”

“And who is he?” Steve says weakly. “I don’t think I even know him anymore.”

Tony rolls over again so he can look Steve directly in the eye. “He is a good man. A good _friend_. Someone who would go to the end of the line for his loved ones.”

Steve smiles sadly, and Tony wonders if he’s thinking about Bucky. Or Peggy. Or even Howard. “Thanks, Tony,” Steve says. “It’s just that I…I used to want things. Things like a wife and kids, to have a _home_.”

“You have a home,” Tony says quietly. “You have us.”

“You’re right. I do.”

“I’m sensing there’s a but in there,” Tony says.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time reconciling all of this. I thought I knew what I wanted. Now I’m not so sure.”

“You don’t want a wife and kids anymore?” Tony asks, curious.

Steve shrugs his shoulders miserably. “Every so often I meet a dame I think I like but it never goes beyond the first couple of dates. I can never picture myself having a future with them,” Steve says, blushing a little.

“Steve!” Tony gasps, fake-aghast. “I didn’t even know you knew what casual dating is.”

Steve gives him a withering glare that could kill flowers. “It’s not a one-and-done type of thing,” he says, looking uncomfortable even saying it. “Things just…get in the way.”

Tony nods sagely. He understands. “You need to take a break? To sort your life out? We can survive without Captain America for a while.”

“It’s not work. It’s--”

“Wait, are you saying you’re holding a torch for somebody else?” If it’s at all possible, Steve blushes even more. “You are! Who is it? Please tell me it’s not Nat. She and Bruce seem to be close lately, and I don’t want to have to watch an awkward and tragic love-triangle unfold.”

“It’s, um, not Natasha,” Steve says quietly, suddenly unable to look at Tony. Tony has never seen him look so uncomfortable in his own skin. “Can we just drop it, please? It’s not important.”

Tony feels a little stung. As an honest guy, Steve’s never been afraid to speak his mind. Especially to him. It’s odd for him to evade Tony’s questions. Unless…

Wait.

Tony’s memory flashes back to the celebration they’d had after they defeated the Chitauri. He’d been drunk, _so_ drunk, on both alcohol and adrenaline because _they had done it_. They had won.

Steve had stayed by his side the entire night, had said it was because he wanted to make sure Tony didn’t get alcohol poisoning but Tony hadn’t believed him. He suspects it was more because Steve was shaken up by the day’s events as much as the rest of them, had wanted to keep Tony close.

 _We almost lost you_ , Steve had said, looking haunted.

Tony had been so drunk, and Steve had been there. Strong, dependable, beautiful Steve. Tony couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He’d fantasized about kissing Steve since their first meeting, so with the alcohol fueling his courage, he did just that: he’d grabbed Steve by the lapels of his ridiculous plaid button-down and kissed him.

And Steve? He’d _participated_. Rather enthusiastically, too. With one hand gripping Tony by the waist and the other by his hair, Steve had rocked Tony’s world with nothing but his lips and tongue and teeth, leaving Tony breathless and wobbly and wanting more.

But afterward, once Tony had dried out a little bit, he’d been horrified and had apologized profusely to Steve, because who does that? Who just assaults their friend like that? But Steve had just laughed it off like it was a big joke and thanked Tony for a good time.

And that was all she wrote. A tiny spark of a thing petered out into nothing and they carried on as they always did: as friends. It was never mentioned again. Tony had started to wonder if he’d made the whole thing up, that it was all just a fantasy born of too much alcohol and unresolved sexual tension.

God, they’d been such idiots, hadn’t they?

“Steve?” Tony asks quietly.

“What?” Steve answers, turning to face Tony again.

“I give you full permission to deck me if I’m wrong about this,” Tony says before he leans in and closes the gap between them, just a bare brush of lips against lips to test the waters before delving in.

Steve groans and his hands come up to cradle Tony’s jaw, angling Tony deeper into the kiss. Tony’s heart stops then explodes. He makes an embarrassing noise of his own and brings his arms up to wrap around Steve’s shoulders, pulls Steve down against him and revels in the feeling of Steve’s mouth and body against his.

Steve pulls away gently. Tony bemoans the loss, wants Steve’s mouth back on him and chases it, but Steve stops him with a quiet, “Tony.”

Tony opens his eyes and looks up at Steve. The man looks wrecked, his lips wet and plump, with a red flush sitting high on his cheeks. He’s beautiful, and Tony wants to see if he can get that flush to spread to other parts of Steve’s body, but he knows they need to talk.

“I want to know what we’re doing here,” Steve says, his tone resolute, even though Tony can feel the evidence of Steve’s arousal digging into his hip.

“It’s not a one-and-done type of thing, Steve,” Tony parrots Steve’s earlier words back to him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Steve says with a little laugh. He brushes his thumbs across Tony’s cheekbones endearingly, bends down to give Tony a sweet kiss. “God, Tony,” he whispers against Tony’s mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Then let’s close this dialogue so we can get to the really fun things. Make up for lost time,” Tony says. He begins to rock his hips against Steve’s lightly, arches up into it. He knows he’s being a tease, can’t help it, just wants Steve to stop second-guessing everything and give into the pleasure, to take him hard and fast like Tony’s been dreaming about for years.

Steve groans and thrusts down against Tony and yes, that. That’s good. Tony’s breath stutters out on a moan and he’s barely able to choke out, “Clothes.”

Steve rears up and pulls his shirt then boxers off and Tony’s eyes immediately zero in on Steve’s cock. That thing needs to get in him _now_.

“Steve, please,” Tony calls out and reaches for the other man, eager to get his hands on all of that skin. Steve falls back into Tony, hips sliding between Tony’s spread thighs and their breaths catch on a shared groan. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and tugs Steve down, crushes their lips together in a rough kiss. Steve’s hands are busy at his waist and Tony hears a _rrrip_ and his tanktop falls apart in Steve’s hands, is left to dangle off of his shoulders as Steve gives his shorts the same treatment.

“Steve,” Tony gasps and arches into him, trying to rub himself against any part of Steve he can reach. Steve shoves him back down and crawls over him, spreads Tony across the mattress, lets his hands wander reverently over Tony’s stomach and up his chest, across the striated scars and to his shoulders. Steve’s mouth follows the path of his fingers, leaving stinging bites in its wake.

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony begs, impatient.

Steve looks up at him and his gaze is almost black, intense. “What, Tony? What do you want?”

“I want you,” Tony growls. “Quit with the foreplay and get in me already.”

Steve’s smile is almost wolfish, but still, he hesitates. “We don’t have--”

Tony reaches over the side of the bed for his shorts. He falls back against the mattress and slaps a bottle of Vaseline into Steve’s hand. “Here.”

“Where did you even get this?” Steve asks as he coats his fingers.

“Bathroom,” Tony gasps, pushing back against Steve’s fingers as they press against him. “Call it wishful thinking.”

Steve laughs and leans down to kiss Tony, distracting him from the discomfort. His fingers curl inside Tony and brush against the spot that makes him see stars, and Tony’s had enough. He grabs the jar of Vaseline and coats Steve’s cock with it, guides Steve into him and pushes back against the stretch, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Steve groans and thrusts forward, buries himself to the hilt in Tony’s warmth.

“God, Tony,” Steve whispers against his neck.

Tony whimpers and clutches at Steve’s shoulders for purchase. Steve growls and thrusts harder, moves faster, thumbs the head of Tony’s cock. Tony cries out; he’s not going to last much longer.

“Steve, I’m gonna,” Tony tries to say but the pleasure overwhelms him and all he can do is hold on as the pleasure coils tighter. A particularly well-placed thrust sends him over the edge and he’s cumming, his vision going white at the edges as his body comes down from its high.

He barely registers Steve’s orgasm and that’s too bad. He bets it was lovely.

Steve collapses against him, his body flushed a bright pink and trembling. Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and leans up to kiss him languidly, smiles against his lips and says, “10/10, would do again.”

Steve rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Thanks, you too,” he says fondly.


End file.
